Bless
by chiaoscuro
Summary: After Season 6 finale...Spike has his soul...and a few changes up his sleeve...*chap 4 posted* will probably by B/S, but not sure...please r/r!!
1. Prologue

Title: Bless  
  
Author: chiaoscuro  
  
Email: chiaoscuro13@hanmail.net  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue.  
  
  
  
Black.  
  
That was all he saw or felt for a long time. He couldn't remember anything in this blackness, couldn't remember who he was, or perhaps, who he had been. Just floated in an endless infinity of void that seemed to last for an eternity, or perhaps...not even a moment. For something was pulling at him...a place of light and pain where the blissful darkness could not hide him. Suddenly, eternity in this void seemed all too brief. Struggling, he tried to hold on to the moment, tried to hold on to ignorance and tried to push away memory. But the light tore at him, straining him, grasping him despite his struggles...and then something snapped. Suddenly, he was slammed into a body, and with that corporeal manifestation came terrible knowledge.  
  
He knew what he was, he knew what he had been, and he knew what he had done.  
  
Tears flooding down his cheeks, Spike sat up and howled. 


	2. Anna

1 Sunnydale, August 2003  
  
  
  
The sun shone fiercely, glaring down on the almost sizzling pavement. In the sluggish heat of noontime in August, Sunnydale was almost a dead town. Anyone with the slightest amount of sense was indoors where it was at least mildly cooler. Waves of heat rose up from the ground, slowly frying the inhabitants of the city into mindless, sweaty, glaze eyed sloths.  
  
A bell tinkled in the heat induced silence. The occupants of the Magic Shoppe indifferently turned their heads to see who the intruder was. Even Anya, the usually chipper and cheerful saleswoman, only managed very mild interest to the prospect of a potential customer, before seeing that it was just a five or six year old girl, and slumping back down in her chair, not even bothering to give the girl a word of warning not to break anything.  
  
The girl was a skinny child, but meticulously dressed in crisp red shorts and a yellow T-shirt with a smiley face on it. She shuffled up to the middle of the shop and just stood there, looking a bit confused. After five minutes of silence and immobility, seeing that no concerned parent or guardian had yet rushed in the shop, Anya sighed and approached the child.  
  
" Little girl, have you lost your Mommy?"  
  
The girl stared at Anya for a moment and then shyly shook her head no. Growing a little impatient, Anya crouched down in front of the child.  
  
"Then why are you here?"  
  
The girl looked at Anya gravely with clear gray eyes and uttered one word.  
  
" Hi."  
  
Anya looked at the girl curiously and tentatively responded,  
  
"Hi."  
  
The girl smiled sweetly. In the lilting lisp of childhood, she announced,  
  
" I'ma looking for Bahfee Summers."  
  
Hearing her name mentioned, Buffy pulled her head off the table and shook herself out of her stupor. When she saw the little girl, she smiled and approached her.  
  
"Hi. I'm Buffy."  
  
The little girl looked at her hard, studying Buffy with wise intelligent eyes. After several moments had passed, she announced,  
  
" My name is Anna. My daddy said that you were purdy. But I think that you're purdier than he said so."  
  
Buffy blushed at the compliment, but was struck suddenly by the strangeness of this encounter. Who was this little girl, how did she know her, and who was her "daddy"? The gang, who had risen from their little siesta, was watching the scene with curiosity.  
  
" Anna, who's your daddy?" Buffy asked.  
  
The girl blushed a little and then shook her dark curls back and forth,  
  
" He's not really my daddy. He's my adaw...ado...adopt'd daddy. I used ta live at the Ivy Crown Orphanage. He stopped the scary people from eating me las' year after they ate everybody. Susan 'n Amy 'n Maddy 'n everyone got aten 'n everything was all red but my daddy tol' me they went ta heaven and killed all the scary people."  
  
The gang, fully awake now, shuddered at the reference. Last year, a private orphanage just outside of New York had been attacked. The masscred corpses of 45 children and all the staff had been found. The incident had been in international news...no survivors, bodies drained of blood, two telltale holes in every infantine neck. They had explained it as a cult killing, but the gang knew better. It had obviously been vampires, and very bloodthirsty and sick ones at that, but the disturbing thing was, the Council had investigated it, and had found no trace of any implicated party. There had been reports of a large vampire nest in the area dating from several weeks before the attack, but after the attack, it seemed as if the 40 odd demons had just disappeared off the face of the earth. Evidently, someone had killed the perpetrators. Buffy grew very serious.  
  
" Anna, can you tell me who your daddy is? And where he is?"  
  
Again, the girl shook her head.  
  
" I can't tell you. My daddy doesn't know I'ma here. But he tol' me so many nice stories about Buffy the Sla...Slayer, and I wanted to see if you were as purdy as he tol' me. Please don't tell Daddy, he's gonna get quiet and sad 'n he'll be mad cuz he's gonna say I was bad that there are monsters in the daytime too. But I don' believe him 'cuz the only monsters I saw came at night, and growled."  
  
Buffy carefully chose her next words.  
  
" How did you know I was the Slayer, Anna?"  
  
The girl smiled.  
  
" My daddy tol' me so. My daddy has lotsa nightmares, and he always keeps on saying 'I'm sorry'. I axed him who he was sorry to and he tol' me there was a very purdy girl named Buffy and she was a Slayer, and that he was mean to her before 'n...."  
  
Anna was cut off as the door to the Magic Shoppe burst open and a blur of black and white rushed towards Anna. The man who had just barged in had swept the little girl up into his arms and was holding her frantically, berating the child all the while.  
  
" Anna luv, don't ever do that to me again. How many times have I told you, there are monsters in the daytime too. Do you know how much I searched for you? I...I..."  
  
" Spike?" 


	3. Daddy

He looked...different. The clothes were the same, even the hair was the same. But his eyes, his eyes looked...haunted. Full of terrible knowledge.  
  
The self-dubbed Scooby gang was staring at him in shock. He was still clutching Anna to him, but was now backing away slowly, eyes filling with tears. Before anyone could do anything, he turned around and fled out the door.  
  
Into the sunlight.  
  
For a while, no one said anything. Then,  
  
"Was...was that Spike?"  
  
Buffy looked around tearfully, searching for a negation from her friends. Everyone just stood there, still trying to process what had happened in the past ten minutes.  
  
Dawn was the first to reply.  
  
" Yeah...I think it was."  
  
The others voiced their agreements with this statement.  
  
" He just walked out into the sunlight, didn't he?" Xander asked.  
  
In a collective movement, everyone rushed to the door of the shop, searching for the pile of dust that should have been there. Nothing was there.  
  
Buffy shrank back into herself. Sliding down the wall, she slumped her head down in denial.  
  
" Oh God."  
  
  
  
Spike fled. He ran away from his memories, holding his pseudo-daughter to him like a precious doll. He ran, feet pounding into the hot pavement, tear running down his cheeks. When he reached the Flamingo Inn, where he was staying, he burst into his room, set the shell shocked Anna down on the bed, went into the bathroom, and locked the door.  
  
On the cool white tiles of the ceramic floor, he curled up into fetal position, and bit his lip until it bled, overwhelmed with memories and guilt.  
  
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Should never have stopped by this bloody town. Too many bleedin' memories, too many...sins. Oh God, her face, the look on her face...Spike, you bugger, you had to screw it up again, didn't you? You couldn't bloody well leave her alone could you? You should have gone straight to LA and your bleedin' grandsire, but nooo, you had to give in to nostalgia. You just had to stop by at bloody Sunnydale. Just to see if they're doin' alright, you said. Just to see her from the shadows, one more bleedin' time. Well bugger it all, Spike. You've just screwed up everything. You just can't seem to do anything can you? One hundred and twenty years of killing in the darkness, and you finally get your soul, yet the pain, it keeps a comin'. You're worthless, Spike, you're absolute scum. You're truly beneath her.  
  
After a while, he heard a soft tapping noise against the bathroom door.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
He wiped the tears off his face and opened the door. Anna was looking up at him, sniffling in remorse.  
  
"Daddy, I'm sorry. I...I promise I won't ever leave by myself again. Don' cry. I jus' wann'ed to see if Buffy was as purdy as you tol' me..."  
  
Spike smiled, and brought her close for a hug.  
  
"It's OK, sweets. Daddy was just...afraid, that's all."  
  
" Buy why are you 'fraid? You're never 'fraid of 'nything. You tol' me that Buffy was a good person."  
  
Her little voice was tremulous and unsure.  
  
" Well you see, lil' bit. Daddy hasn't really told you everything. I'm not afraid of Buffy like you're afraid of monsters, pet. Daddy's afraid of...remembering, that's all."  
  
She looked at him in confusion.  
  
"Remembering what?"  
  
"Well, luv. A couple months before Daddy found you and killed all the monsters at your old home, he was a bad, bad, man. Daddy used to be a real vampire, just like all the monsters that killed your friends, Anna."  
  
The little girl smiled.  
  
" I know that, silly Daddy. But Daddy is a good vampire now, isn't he? Wasn't Daddy always a good vampire?"  
  
Spike sighed. He did not want to explain his...situation and what had happened before to this mere chit of a girl. But...he loved Anna. She had seen too much for her young life...had suffered too much at the hands of his kind. She deserved an explanation as to why she was living with a monster. She deserved to be told that she didn't have to stay with him.  
  
" Anna...pet...Daddy wasn't always a good vampire. Daddy used to be just as bad as those monsters that...that killed your friends. He used to be even worse. You see......  
  
  
  
TBC...next chapt will probably cover what exactly happened to Spike in 2002 (i.e. I'll try and explain just why he's still a vampire and can go out into sunlight) 


	4. Marked

Africa, June 2002  
  
The faces blurred by him in an endless macabre parade. Tears poured down his face as his victims all merged into a meaningless form with accusing eyes, staring up at him from a background of blood. Superimposed onto that image was his hands. Crimson. Stained with blood. Stained with sin. With each progressing victim, his hands grew darker and redder, the sin more unwashable. Frantic, Spike scrabbled at his hands, tearing at them with his nails, ripping them with his fangs in a desperate effort to rub the stain out. But it was no use. His efforts did nothing to remove the red…if nothing, the crimson grew deeper, the blood more real, and exhausted, Spike passed out under the benignly full African moon, clutching at his hands and hoping that the deadly rays of the morning sun would burn him out of his misery.  
  
  
  
  
  
He awoke in a church. It was a familiar wan from his human days, back when he had still been the mild-mannered William the Bloody Awful Poet. After a moment of disorientation, he inspected himself. His hands were still bloody and painful. He remembered everything.Tears filled his eyes again but Spike willed them away furiously. Wandering through the pews, his feet strangely led him to the confessional.  
  
Confused, he sat down in the small box and waited. A few minutes passed and the sliding panel behind the grill opened.  
  
" You have sinned."  
  
The voice was unlike any that he had ever heard. It was full of power and judgement…and knowledge. Somehow, he knew that that knowledge was important. He needed it to survive. He needed it to purge himself somehow of the stain on his hands. He waited.  
  
He was jolted as the being behind the grille did something to him…the memories flooded him again and each face of his victim was pushed past his vision in scrutinizing detail. He opened his mouth to scream in agony, but was stopped by…something…he didn't know what. The procession went on for an eternity, but just as suddenly as it had started, the forced remembrance stopped.  
  
All was quiet for several moments. The panel behind the grille snapped close with a resounding click.  
  
Another eternity passed, and then the panel slid open again. He could not see his confessor…there was no one behind the metal latticework. A voice rang out.  
  
" William the Bloody. The Slayer of Slayers. Spike."  
  
His pseudonyms rang out like the heavy tolling of bells.  
  
" Born William Bradwell in 1864, turned at the age of 25 by one Drusilla the Mad, childe of the Angelus, Scourge of Europe. One hundred and twenty years spent as a killer. One hundred and twenty years spent in unholy blood and sin. One hundred and twenty years spent as the spawn of Satan himself."  
  
Spike bowed his head in acknowledgement of his sins. The voice knelled out again.  
  
" Two hundred thousands murders."  
  
The number hit him like a fist in the gut. Silence prevailed for a moment as Spike digested this.  
  
" Two hundred thousands murders- one hundred and fifty thousand men, forty nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine women. One child."  
  
He remembered the child. He'd always had a fastidious dislike to killing children…in comparison, that is, the rest of the vampire world. Angelus had loved them…loved marring their purity, ripping away their innocence. Dru…well…she had liked to play with them. Serving them tea with Miss Edith until they bored her and she ripped their throats out. The one child he had killed had been a quick kill. A merciful kill. Angelus had tempted him with promises of sweet pure blood. Had told him it was like ambrosia.  
  
It had been a little girl. Bedraggled and grimed, she had probably not been more than 5 or 6 years old when he found her on the street, shivering and crying in the cold. Next to her was a dead prostitute. Closer inspection revealed that she had been knifed…most likely by a deadly customer. The little girl was obviously her daughter.  
  
Spike had grinned, then approached the child, human mask in place. Only twenty years old in vampire age, Spike had no control, no finesse. He grabbed the child and savagely tore into her neck, draining her in seconds.  
  
The blood had been good, but it had not lasted long enough. The whole entire experience had not appealed to him much, and that was the first and last child that he had killed.  
  
That fact did nothing to assuage his guilt.  
  
During his reminiscing, the voice behind the grille had remained silent. But as soon as Spike had remembered, it continued its judgement.  
  
" Lives destroyed, families broken apart. Massacre and mayhem caused in joyful violence. You are a damned creature."  
  
The last five words sunk low into his stomach.  
  
" But you have a soul," the voice continued.  
  
" You cannot be blessed yet. You must pay for your sins first. You will not receive confessional until you do."  
  
For the first time, Spike spoke.  
  
" How?"  
  
The voice was silent for a minute. Then, it continued.  
  
" Body. Soul. Mind. Heart" For each, you have caused much pain for humanity. You must recompense. Body: you have two hundred thousands deaths to your name. Your debt to this is simple. Know and search out two hundred thousand people. Find them and save them. This is a matter of numbers only, and the balance will be restored once you have saved two hundred thousand lives. Soul: you have already paid that debt. Your soul is returned, and you feel the pain and guilt of it. The weight from it will last until you have been blessed. Only then will you accept it and live with it without pain.  
  
Mind: you have prided yourself on your mind. Your cleverness in ruthless cruelty has caused much suffering. You have caused some to go insane, to lose their minds….likewise, for one full year, you must suffer the torture of insanity. You will lose all will and coherent thoughts. You will be alone with your thoughts and your memories. However, this payment will only take place when you are ready. Once you are, you will be forewarned….  
  
Finally….Heart: By all rights you must feel the loss of a brother, the loss of a friend, the loss of a lover, and the loss of a father. The loss of a brother, of a friend, and of love…you will feel those prices. You will go through the pain that you have caused thousands of others by your wanton murders. But as for the loss of a father…  
  
…you have killed one child. The only parent of that child was dead when you killed the child. Likewise, you will become a father, and you must not die. If you kill yourself in guilt, your child will die also. The child you will foster will be very important for the future. Believe in her. Truly, you will not feel the loss of a father if you are careful. Be careful. Be very careful, William. You are Marked by the Powers. You are not yet blessed, by you are marked. Christianity says that their God marked Cain's hands so that men would know not to hurt him. You have been Marked by the Powers, perhaps, by your God. Your mark will be there so that Nature will know not to hurt you. Nature has made you a vampire, but it will recognize you. Find the child. Remember her…"  
  
The voice was dying away. Spike felt a burning sensation in the palms of his hands, the agony was intense, but he embraced the pain, reveled in it. The walls of the confessional seemed to melt and Spike felt an uncomfortable prickling on his skin.  
  
He awoke with blurry vision and a nauseous headache. His hands were healed of the savage tearing they had undergone the night before. But two twin scars looked up at him from his palms. Twin scars in the shape of a crucifix. Overhead, the hot glare of the midday African sun beat down on him and the whole world breathed in silence as a Marked vampire stared up wonderingly at the light and began his long and arduous voyage.  
  
  
  
TBC…I don't want to make Spike into a cheap Angel knockoff what with the soul and the redemption and blessing thing going on, but I kind of want to see him become really good. Please R/R and please be nice. 


End file.
